


A Single Night

by bilboswaggins



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service RPF
Genre: M/M, firtherton - Freeform, nsfw mentions, spoilers for A Single Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilboswaggins/pseuds/bilboswaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flicking through the digital movie library, he found a title he hadn’t seen yet. A Single Man. He frowned but clicked it on. He had been delaying this one, having heard about how heart-wrenchingly sad it was, but it was also one of his better roles, he couldn’t put it off any more if he wanted to ask real questions about it.</p>
<p>He regretted it almost instantly.<br/>--<br/>Spoilers for A Single Man inside. Firtherton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Night

Taron was still so new to working with big names, he wanted to absorb as much as he could while he was around them. He’d made a promise to himself to watch several films from everyone he was going to be working with before he really met them, so he could get as much out of learning and have the opportunity to ask questions. Before he worked with Colin, he watched the ‘classics’ as he was instructed by his mother. An episode or two of Pride and Prejudice, Bridget Jones (the first one only, the second one was absolute rubbish, she had told him), The King’s Speech, that sort of thing. And they were good, he got good tips out of him for them.

But once he had gotten closer to Colin, really got to know him as a person, he became more and more interested in his body of work. He was type-casted a lot, but damn was he secretly versitile. He’d watched Mamma Mia (and given him a good deal of shit over it, even though he genuinely liked it), Nanny McPhee (‘Really Colin, why were you even in this?’), Gambit (‘How many ‘Harry’s do you need to play? Do you secretly wish that was your name or something.’), and several others.

Now that they were nearing the end of their time together on the press tour, he was cramming in last minute films. He told himself it was because he wanted to know everything Colin had to tell him, because lord knew when they’d work together again or even if (a thought he didn’t spend much time considering, the prospect sucked entirely too much). But as the night wore on, he found himself paying less attention to the subtleties of his acting, and more to him and his movements, his facial expression and which he knew from experience were genuine, the looks he’d seen directed at him personally. His heart fluttered and then sank rapidly.

_Snap out of it, Egerton._

It was midnight. He needed to be up relatively early the next day, but he had time for one more. Flicking through the digital movie library, he found a title he hadn’t seen yet. A Single Man. He frowned but clicked it on. He had been delaying this one, having heard about how heart wrenchingly sad it was, but it was also one of his better roles, he couldn’t put it off any more if he wanted to ask real questions about it.

He regretted it almost instantly. Maybe it was tiredness, maybe it was the alcohol in his system, maybe it was the incredibly convincing acting coupled with the face he had such an attachment to, but by the end, he had been in tears at least twice. He’d lost count. Maybe it was three. George Falconer lie on the floor of his bedroom, dead, and Taron’s hands were shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks. Fuck.

He didn’t remember leaving his hotel room. He didn’t remember the walk down the hall, or the unevenness of his breaths as he looked for the number. He didn’t even remember knocking. But he did remember Colin’s confused and sleepy face as he opened up the door, and the quiet ‘Taron? Is everything alright?’ before the door was flung wide and he was pulled in.

“Sorry,” Taron says, getting a grip on himself as Colin closed the door, frowning in concern. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come down here, my legs just carried me.” He was staring at Colin with red-rimmed eyes, forcing a smile that couldn’t have passed for genuine by a long-shot.

“What’s the matter? Have you been crying?” No judgement in his voice, Taron was so relieved to hear. Not that he’d really expected any, come to think of it.  He sat down on the edge of his bed - the covers still tossed, he must have been lying down - and patted the space beside him for Taron to sit.

“I, no, not really.” The unconvinced look had him sighing as he took the seat offered. “Okay. Maybe a little. It’s been a stressful night,” he said with a shaky laugh, and continued to look at him intently.

“You’ve been doing wonderfully at the press meetings so far,” Colin said slowly, shifting a bit to angle himself towards him a little more. “You can’t tell me you’re stressed about tomorrow?”

“No.” Taron bit his lip. “I uh. … You’ve got to promise not to make fun of me, alright?”

“I would never.”

“You would.” He gave a wry smile.

“Never in seriousness. Fine, yes, I promise. What happened?”

“I… was watching movies. You know. Some of your old ones.” Colin was still frowning, if anything the frown was deeper, and Taron had to look at his hands to get the rest out. “I uh. May have been watching A Single Man.”

“Ah…” Colin nodded to himself. There was a moment of silence, and then he scooted himself even closer to Taron, and wrapped his arms around him in a comforting hug. Instantly, tears prickled at Taron’s eyes again, threatening to spill over as he leaned into Colin’s arms and grasped one of them in an awkward half-hug, breathing a measured exhale to try and keep himself under control. “I understand,” he said soothingly, squeezing him once and then letting him go so he could stand.

“Would a drink help? Looks as though neither of us is getting sleep for a few hours, it couldn’t hurt.” He smiled kindly and Taron cursed himself over and over for how light it made him feel inside, even under the crushing weight of his panic.

“…. Yeah. Might help. Thanks.” He smiled meakly, rubbing his face as soon as Colin’s back was turned.

Colin moved to the minibar and pulled it open, stooping to pull out two bottles. He spoke as he opened them, granting Taron the few seconds reprieve from his gaze to fix himself and try and pull it together. “Probably one of the harder roles I’ve had to do. Very serious, very heavy themes in that one. The ostricizing and isolation of being homosexual on top of the suicidal mindset and deep depression…. It got to me often while filming it.” He held out one of the bottles to Taron who accepted it gratefully, and returned to his seat on the bed, perhaps a mite bit closer than he had been originally. “I needed several days of what I referred to as ‘detox’ afterwards of comedy movies and light hearted things before I was ready to be a normal person again.”

Taron took a gulp of his drink with closed eyes, fighting away the mental images of Colin holding a gun in his mouth, Colin nearly sobbing, Colin planning his death, Colin lying dead on the floor…  **No-**  no. No it was George holding a gun, George lying dead.  _Not Colin_. Keep them straight.

But the heavy weight tugged in his chest as he opened his eyes again and look at the tiredly smiling face beside him, and he nodded almost numbly, forgetting what it was he had been saying a moment ago that he was agreeing to.

“You uh. You did well,” he said quietly, taking another gulp - was it already halfway gone? - and staring at the bottle in his hands. “Very believable.” He cleared his throat.

“Taron.” Colin said clearly, waiting for Taron to turn and actually look at him before speaking. His drink was on the bedside table, untouched. “I’m sorry it upset you. I would have given you greater warning had I known you would react so strongly.”

“How could you if I didn’t know I would react ‘so strongly’…..” Taron mumbled, and set the empty - when did the rest of it go? - bottle down beside Colin’s full one. Like before, he didn’t remember lifting his hands, but the next thing he knew he was delicately cupping one of Colin’s cheeks, as though any amount of pressure would break him, his thumb brushing back and forth feather-light.

Colin didn’t pull away.

“It felt.. I don’t know, so real.” He said, his eyes raking over Colin’s face as his fingers felt him, needing to feel the warmth from his skin, the subtle thumping in his veins. “Seeing you put a gun in your mouth…” He shook his head, and his hold on him tightened a bit. “I don’t know why it got to me so badly. I felt like I was watching you,  _you_ -you, and I couldn’t do anything..”

He was leaning closer, momentarily biting his lip as he stared into the deep brown eyes which were looking back at him. Was the thumping speeding up? “I forgot George’s name. I only saw Colin, the Colin I know and have spent so much time with, trying to die. It really fucked me up. I wanted to do something, anything. And I cheered when he - no, you, decided to live… And then when he, you, whatever died on the floor… I guess I had to be sure.. Had to know you were really here, really okay.”

“It’s okay, Taron.” Colin was smiling gently, warmth and sympathy in his eyes. He too lifted a hand to touch Taron’s face comfortingly, and Taron tilted his head into it. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise you.”

“….” Taron felt a strangling feeling of helplessness and anxiousness in his chest, and as alcohol pumped through his veins and desperation raced in his mind, he knew he didn’t quite have the self control to stop himself this time. He’d mastered himself so many others, but now, as if drawn by magnetic pulls, Taron’s lips surged forward to find and meld with Colin’s.

He had expected him to be still, to pull back in surprise and tell him it was time to get him back to his room, or even to pat him condescendingly on the head and tell him he needed to get a grip, but no. Colin responded instantly, kissing him back and holding him at the neck to pull him in further.

Still rather emotional and worked up, he decided to take this as far as Colin would allow him. Making a small sound almost like a whine in the back of his throat, Taron pulled him in and shifted them a bit, keeping their lips locked firmly. He swung himself off the bed to straddle Colin’s lap instead, both his hands holding to his face desperately. Colin’s arms wound around Taron’s middle as their kiss deepened, and holy shit Taron was beginning to experience first hand the claim of how good a kisser Colin Firth was. He felt overwhelmed in the best way, wanting to spend forever just like this, having no idea how much time was passing, if any.

Eventually he pushed him down onto the bed to lie properly and climbed on top of him again, and they lay with Taron still clinging, kissing as though their lives depended on it. “Colin,” Taron breathed between kisses, holding and grasping at his clothing tightly.

“Shh, I’m here, love,” he always replied, rubbing his lower back even as their bodies moved together, slowly and fluidly. “I’m right here.”

Taron didn’t remember how things progressed from there. He didn’t remember if he sank down Colin’s body and pulled his cock in his mouth, or if Colin’s hand had slid into his pajama bottoms and touched and played with him first. He didn’t remember if he had begged for Colin to fuck him into the mattress, or if Colin had insisted if he did, they would be facing each other so Taron could see it was really him, he was really there. And he didn’t remember how long it was before they fell asleep, wrapped up in each other, Taron clinging to his waist and Colin stroking his hair. 

But he did remember waking up with his head buried in Colin’s neck, he remembered Colin’s soft ‘good morning, love,’ he remembered the fear for last night’s actions fading away and replaced with joy as Colin kissed him sweetly. He would probably never watch that movie again, it would be too painful if he wasn’t there to kiss his fears away, but it certainly brought some good things from it, he decided as he ate his breakfast beside Colin, stealing kisses whenever he could get them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt. Come find me there at yeseggsy.


End file.
